EDWARD. What's the security?
MR. VOYSEY. [_putting his coping stone on the argument._] My financial
ability.
EDWARD. [_really not knowing whether to laugh or cry._] Why, it seems as
if you were satisfied with this state of things.
MR. VOYSEY. Edward, you really are most unsympathetic and unreasonable.
I give all I have to the firm's work . . my brain . . my energies . . my
whole life. I can't turn my abilities into hard cash at par . . I wish I
could. Do you suppose that if I could establish every one of these
people with a separate and consistent bank balance to-morrow that I
shouldn't do it? Do you suppose that it's a pleasure . . that it's
relaxation to have these matters continually on one's mind? Do you
suppose--?
EDWARD. [_thankfully able to meet anger with anger._] I find it
impossible to believe that you couldn't somehow have put things right by
now.
MR. VOYSEY. Oh, do you? Somehow!
EDWARD. In thirty years the whole system must either have come
hopelessly to grief . . or during that time there must have been
opportunities--
MR. VOYSEY. Well, if you're so sure, I hope that when I'm under ground,
you may find them.